


Towards the Sun

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [226]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sick Claudia Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 06:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: Claudia Stilinski had never imagined herself to ever become one who would consider suicide as a way to go, but there she sat with her final letter written and her pills waiting for her attention in the kitchen. She didn’t want to die, not really, but her brain was already working on killing her be it in a slow and rather humiliating way, and so the desire to die with a shred of dignity had planted itself inside her heart.





	Towards the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, breathe, just breathe. Everything is going to be fine. So, what if you’ve ended-up here in my lair of gloom and doom, you might still survive this encounter as long as you don’t stay here too long, since my poison of darkness will seep into your very soul with every breath you take. So, just breathe, relax and let me take care of you. 
> 
> Greetings everyone, I hope you are all well, and that you’ll forgive me for posting another round of 15Minutes, one that took place back in early days of August but due to reasons (insomnia and allergy meds) I forgot to post these stories, well, yes and no. I forgot to post them, but thought I had, and my mistake wasn’t made known until ItAlmostWorked! went to search for a couple of stories written during the August round of 15minutes. Now I shall try and get this done, wish me luck with the internet since it was the biggest reason these stories weren’t posted on the day they were written. 
> 
> Aaanyways, let’s get this show on the bumpy road. Everyone familiar with this series, please follow the large fluffy dog down to A SLIGHT CHANGE, and the rest of you stay with me a moment and while I explain to you what this series is and what to expect, do enjoy the army of cats ready to climb into your laps. Alrighty, so 15Minutes is a series of short little stories written by me for my mad-hatter friends, each tale is a small payment to then. Each story is written within the time of 15Minutes, hence the name, and due to the short amount of time this story will be written in a state of panic and so this story isn’t going to be flawless, or great. Now, if you can’t handle bad grammar, horrible typos and bad storytelling, well, leave now and be at peace and remain safe. However, if you dare to wander deeper into this story follow me down to A Slight Change.
> 
> A SLIGHT CHANGE has fallen upon on our familiar game of tales and misery, a theme has been placed upon this round of 15Minutes, the theme is Miserable. Fear not ThankTheTreesAndTheBees still has the power to dictate a few details for her little tale such as wanting a fic with Claudia Stilinski, who is considering taking her own life before she becomes too sick, but in the end Stiles stops her from going through with it.

The house is silent around her as she finishes the last of her letters. There were many letters already hidden around the house for her husband and her son to find once she was gone, some hidden better than others. There was one letter inside each box of decorations, each box nearly placed upstairs in the garage so that her husband could easily find them, and she’d brought two calendars for Noah, one for home and for him to take to work, she’d meticulously marked down everything she felt he needed to know and be prepared for; she’d scribbled down on the date she felt he should unpack a box of decorations with a bright pen, at times sticking a suitable sticker there too to grab his attention, just to ensure that he could not miss or forget to continue making certain holidays special for their son.

There were letters in the pockets of jackets that would be taken out of storage when the season changed, she’d hidden another letter in the glove compartment inside her Jeep; the words in this letter were words of encouragements since she knew how hard it would be for her Mischief to get a handle on her dear Rosco, but she also knew that her Mischief was stubborn enough not to give-up and she also knew the heart of her son, and so she knew he’d be driving her Jeep around one day.

Although she’s written possibly one too many letters, left a card or two too many for Mischief to find, Claudia can’t help but feel nothing she’s written will be enough to sooth the ache of grief that would soon blossom in the two hearts she loves the most.

She’s left a post-it-note on each bottle of liquor in the house, each note begging her husband not to drink, but Claudia fears once she’s truly gone and Noah is left to deal with raising their son alone that Noah will be overwhelmed with it all and follow in the footsteps of his own father. Claudia has been tempted to empty each bottle down the drain, but of late she just doesn’t have the strength to open a bottle of ketchup let alone a bottle of Jack Daniels, and knowing her husband Noah would take such action as proof of her lack of trust in him when it came to taking care of their son; and her husband would be less angry at this notion than what one might expect, and instead he’d doubt his ability be a father to their son once she was gone, and thus might make a horrible decision thinking it was what was best for their son.

Claudia doesn’t want to trigger some of Noah’s demons, those born from a childhood where he was raised by an alcoholic father who didn’t give a damn about his son, which was why Noah had grown so close with Claudia’s father who had loved him like a son only days after Noah started working at his Hardware Store; it had been her father that had encourage Noah to chase his dreams, be it to become a police officer or to ask her out, but still Claudia knew Noah had struggled to not liv under the constant fear since he learned she was pregnant with their son that he’d fail horrible at the job of being a parents.

The last thing Claudia wants to do is leave Noah, to leave their son who might be brave and far strong and resilient than most children his age, but she can feel her time drawing to an end as easily as she feels autumn approaching, her feet are getting colder and her mind is slipping.

She doesn’t want to become someone different, someone that will cloud the memories her son has of her. 

It had been difficult for her to accept that she was sick, that she was losing herself. It took her taking her son to the beach instead of taking him to school on a cold January morning, and then forgetting him out there on the freezing cold beach, for her to accept something wasn’t right with her; it however took Noah much longer to accept that her strange behaviour didn’t have to do with just exhaustion or depression, and even after she was diagnosed he’d continued for almost a year to drag her from doctor and specialist to another, fighting the reality with a fierceness she’d never seen before.

Claudia had wanted to keep her illness a secret from their son for as long as possible, and Noah had agreed, but their son was far too observant, too clever for his own good, and so one day not too long after Noah had accepted that death would part them sooner than they’d ever imagined, Mieczyslaw simply asked her.

`_You’re dying, aren’t you?_ ´ his question was as sorrowful as the expression on his soft and child-like face, there was sadness is eyes that had always displayed a child who did his best to not see and know as much as he did; Mischief had been the one who’d known before she or Noah did that Donald, their neighbour, was an abusive his wife.

She’d been ready to lie to him, to give him a few more months of not having to think about losing his mom, but Mischief had then sharply told her not to lie to him, informing her that he wasn’t stupid and not to treat him like he was stupid.

Claudia had seen her husband in her son as she sat him down, the way he’d readied himself for the bad news was so much like her husband that she could not help but wonder not for the first-time why others did not see just how much like Noah her son was. Claudia had thought back then of how a boy of only seven-years shouldn’t have to wear a stoic mask, a mask Mischief kept on as firmly as he kept his emotions in control as he began to ask her one question after another; calling her out anytime she attempted to sugar-coat some details or outright hide others, and it made her feel incredibly sad to know her son lost his innocence that day but she’d also felt so proud of her son and his intelligence that day.

It made her heart ache terribly thinking she wouldn’t be around to see him use his intelligence to go far in this world, and he would go far, perhaps he wouldn’t become a man of great power or wealth, but she just knew he’d do amazing things with his mind and heart.

Claudia recalls smiling sadly at her son once he had no more questions, the tears he’d been fighting back threatening to fall, and she’d hated knowing that she was the cause of his sorrow and future grief. Her son, the apple of her eye and the pride of her soul, had asked her then what he could do, and her answer was simple.

`_Just remember,_ ´ Claudia had said as she moved her son to sit on her lap the way he hadn’t done in too long, ` _always – always – remember that I love you._ ´ and as she kissed his temple, and his arms moved to hug her tightly, she made him promise her something very important.

` _Promise me, Mischief, to never forget that I loved you most of all._ ´ and of course, her little Mischief promised her that much.

Drying a stray tear, Claudia takes the empty cup of tea to the kitchen and rinses it off, she’d enjoyed the last of her favourite tea in the silence of the night while her husband and son slept peacefully upstairs, leaving her at peace to finish her letters and to enjoy her favourite cup of tea without distractions.

Since a few-weeks ago, Claudia found it more and more difficult to sleep with how restless her mind was with knowledge and facts of what was coming, but also due to moments of irrational fears that made perfect sense at the moment before clarity and sanity broke through the panicked fog of her mind. There had been mornings when Claudia found herself waking-up on the stairs, body stiff and sore, one of Noah’s guns still clutched in her hands while facing the front-door of her home; always a chair propped-up against the front and back-door, with mountain of plates and glasses, cups and mugs. She’d started a month-ago to hang bells on Mischief door, which had raised more than one pair of eyebrows.

When Claudia had woken-up outside Mischief door, gun in her hand, and facing the bedroom door of her son, she’d asked Noah to change the combination to the gun cabinet and not tell her; although she hadn’t told him why, Noah had paled and rushed to do as she asked, that was the morning Noah came back from his last night-shift for since then he would always be home before sunset.

Claudia glances over at the bottles of pills she’d brought downstairs, there’s the fear of unknown inside her as she prepares a glass of water, but there’s a degree of determination in her that makes it easier for the for her to find just enough strength uncap the pill bottles; carefully she sets the pills down on the kitchen counter, counting them like sheep before sleep, and there’s a peculiar sense of peace as she does this and as she lifts the first of her little sheep to her lips and swallows it with a sip of water she fears nothing. 

`Mom? ´ the sleepy whisper startles her, and causes her to drop the second-pill before sharply turning around to look at her son, her little Mischief.

`Why you not in bed? ´ her son asks, more asleep than awake.

Claudia doesn’t know what to say, and just stands there silently watching as her son slowly moves towards her, eyes closed and body still soft with sleep, and she doesn’t even realize she’s been holding her breath until he’s hugging her and mumbles against her stomach.

`I love you mommy. ´

Hugging her son back, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, Claudia responds truthfully, `I love you too, Mischief. ´

`Can I sleep with you tonight? ´ her son asks, voice small and scared of rejecting.

Smiling a tiny smile, while admitting defeat, Claudia responds to Mischief’s question with her own.

`I thought you were too old for such things, Mischief. ´ and with that she uses the last strength she has for the day and picks her son, who she was certain would grow as tall as Noah, if not as tall her father who was a tall and gangly man with a good heart and a ridiculous sense of humour.

`Never to old. ´ Mischief answers, voice sleepy soft while so easily using her own words against her which makes her kiss his round little cheek.

`Glad to hear it. ´ Claudia whispers, her voice breaking a little.

Her son is still so small, so young, and he needs her still.

How can she ever leave her little Mischief?


End file.
